Make Me a Liar
by Kittenshift17
Summary: Arya felt a thrill race through her as goose pimples exploded across her skin and sent tingles all the way through her body. Slowly she took another step towards him, lifting her hand and letting it hover in the air a hairsbreadth from his chest. She looked up into his bright blue eyes, which pierced her with heat. Gendrya. One-Shot. Smut.


**Wolf Song**

* * *

><p><em>My feather bed is deep and soft and there I'll lay you down,<em>

_I'll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown._

_For you shall be my lady love and I shall be your lord,_

_I'll always keep you warm and safe, and protect you with my sword._

_And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree_

_She spun away and said to him, no feather bed for me_

_I'll wear a gown of golden leaves, and bind my hair with grass_

_But you can be my forest love, and me your forest Lass._

The words of Tom O'Sevens song haunted Arya as she lay there in the cramped, uncomfortably soft bed the women of Acorn Hall had forced her into. Just like the stupid dresses they kept trying to shove her into and the way they scolded her when she ruined them, it was stifling. When she'd been caught running around in the ugly dress of acorns that she and Gendry had ruined while they'd wrestled and tickled one another on the floor of the forge, they'd scolded her and sent her to bed without dinner.

Arya had almost laughed at the idea, which they seemed to believe was punishment to a girl who'd been on the run from the Lannisters and the rest of the realm for months and months. She was no stranger to hunger and it certainly wasn't the first time Arya of House Stark had been sent to bed without dinner for ruining a gown. She would keep ruining them until they saw things her way and let her don her breeches and tunic once again.

But as she lay there in her uncomfortably soft bed, Arya was not thinking about dresses or tunics or her missed dinner. Never before today had a song she'd heard ever stuck inside her mind the way the song Tom Sevenstrings sang today had. It was as though he'd written it just for her. The lines of the song seemed to speak of the way every man she'd known thought it a clever thing to treat her like a proper little lady who longed for warmth and safety and the comfort of a feather bed. Father had done so, and Robb, the Lannisters, even Harwin – who so often called her Arya Underfoot – believed that she ought to be treated like a helpless, simpering little princess.

_**And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree.**_

Arya snorted, wondering if it was the stupid acorn dress she'd been wearing that had Tom calling her such a thing.

She felt like blushing all over again as she heard him singing the words in her head while she'd stood there, covered in dirt with twigs and straw in her hair, standing right next to Gendry. A small smile tugged at the edges of her lips as she thought of the rest of the lyrics Tom had invented.

It would be just the kind of thing Arya would do, she knew, to tell a man she wanted no feather bed and reject the safety foolishly offered to someone like her. She didn't need any man protecting her with his sword and keeping her safe and warm. She'd a sword of her own, and feather beds - she was deciding - were most definitely not for her.

Arya revelled in the sting of the cold rock floor of her chambers against her bare feet as she stepped from the feather bed that she could no more sleep in than she could curtsy and simper like a proper lady. Too long had she spent sleeping on the ground around a campfire. Too long had she been a forest lass, Arya thought wryly.

Scowling at the dress that was the only clothing she had to don, Arya dressed quickly, tugging on her boots and wrapping a heavy cloak around her shoulders to fight the chill of night. Like the ghost she'd been at Harrenhal, Arya slipped from her chambers, past the dozing guards of the women's house and crept out into the glorious night. She had been sent to bed without dinner early but she'd laid there long enough to know that by now most would be abed.

Hurrying across the grounds of Acorn Hall, Arya Stark of Winterfell knew she ought to return to her feather bed. She knew that as the daughter of a lord, the thoughts in her mind were not fit to be in her head. Arya of House Stark might've been born to be a highborn lady by birthright, but she could no more be a lady than a wolf could stand on two legs and talk. And since she'd heard Tom's song for her this afternoon, one line in particular had been haunting her mind.

_**And there I'll lay you down**_

Arya knew the moment she left her bed that she was wandering out into the night with those words playing in her head. Those words along with the way Gendry had easily pulled her to the ground in the forge. Since they'd left she'd not been able to forget about the way the stupid bull-headed boy who'd been her travelling partner from the moment they'd left King's Landing and become her best friend, had so easily caught both of her wrists in one of his large calloused hands and pinned them above her head while he tickled her sides with the other.

I wasn't right, Arya knew, for a highborn maid of six-and-ten to have the strange feelings and thoughts swirling through her body that she had happening every time she thought of her bastard-born companion. But as her mother had once said: Forbid Arya Stark anything and it became her heart's desire. Sticking to the shadows Arya made her way through Acorn Hall courtyard heading for the forge where she knew she would find Gendry and with every step she took she heard the words again.

_**There I'll lay you down. You can be my forest love and me your forest lass.**_

Gendry scrubbed his hand across his face as he tried to focus. He'd been attempting to turn his mind to other things all evening, and by morn the Brotherhood would have a forge-worth of new blades and armour. Working the steel wasn't helping, and Gendry knew that was a bad sign. Since they'd left Harrenhal he'd been longing to feel the heat of the forge fire, to heft his hammer and caress the smooth steel, shaping it and moulding it as he willed.

Now he was, and all he could think about was the sweet little interruption of the afternoon.

He might've known since they were still travelling the King's Road that Arry was really Arya of House Stark, a highborn lord's daughter, and it had never bothered him until now. She'd never told him her age, and malnourishment on the road had led him to believe she was only young, maybe a twelve year. Her cropped and butchered haircut hadn't hinted at anything else, and the oversized boys clothing she'd sported had convinced him she was perhaps even younger since it hung off her and drowned the feminie form underneath.

Arya didn't know that after they'd been brought before the Brotherhood, Harwin had grilled Gendry extensively at knifepoint about whether or not he'd laid a finger on the maid and Gendry had nearly choked on his own tongue after he'd told them they were sick to think he'd lay a hand on a child, only to learn she was a maid of six-and-ten. He hadn't quite believed them until today.

Seeing her in a dress, bathed, smelling pretty and looking pissed about it… Gendry grit his teeth as he tried to quash thoughts of the way the too small dress had hugged a feminine figure he'd not expected. Never had he been so drawn to any maid the way he was to Arya and it wasn't just the way her breasts had strained against the low cut neck line that made him think they might've given her the dress of a whore. Nor was it the way her trim and tiny waist dipped in so far before flaring wide to show hips that would no doubt bear many strong and healthy children.

He knew it was her fierce nature and fiery passion that drew him in, and he loved the way anger flared in those grey eyes as he tormented her about looking and smelling nice like a proper highborn lady ought. He loved the way she bossed him around and shoved him when she grew irritated at him. The way she liked to call him a stupid bull-headed boy and shout at him not to call her mi'lady. He liked the way she wasn't afraid to ruin her dress by coming close enough to him that he was like to get soot and sweat on her from working the forge; and the way she threw herself into battle with him over the idea of him treating her like a lady.

Gendry ground his teeth together until his jaw ached as he tried to forget the song Tom O'Sevens had sung just as he and Arya had joined them. The lyrics were a little too accurate for Gendry's taste. He hated that as a bastard he could never have Arya and hated himself even more for wanting her in the first place, knowing she'd probably run him through with Needle if she ever found out. He hated even more that even if he were a lord, or was to be legitimized as the bastard of King Robert Baratheon, Arya would have nought to do with him.

He knew Tom was accurate in describing Arya. Gendry wished he could give her a soft feather bed, to keep her safe and warm and happy. He wished that she needed him to protect her, though he more than once was grateful for the way she could fight, defending not just her own life but his as well. It would be just like Arya to laugh at such a suggestion as needing him and he'd heard her cursing about her soft bed yesterday, claiming the hard cold ground was more comfortable.

Gendry heard the words in his mind _**There I'll lay you down**_ and he brought his hammer down too hard on the sword he was working, shattering the blade as he tried to get those words out of his head.

Growling in frustration with himself and with the now shattered metal, Gendry threw both the sword and the hammer down on the anvil and turned away from them. It was a mistake he knew, because the minute he did he could see the scuffed dirt of the forge floor where she'd wrestled him earlier. Scrubbing both hands over his sweaty face did little to help him when his mind seemed very happy indeed to torment his already straining body with thoughts of the way it had felt to pin her there beneath him and touch her. Even tickling her and watching the way she writhed and laughed as she played with him had almost brought him unstuck.

He wanted Arya. He wanted her so badly that his cock was hard and heavy and his whole body ached at the idea of having her.

And he hated himself for it. It was like torture because he knew he could never have her. No matter how much she might not act like one, she was a highborn lady. Highborn ladies didn't let lowborn bastards touch them and they especially didn't let bastards fuck them. And Gendry hated himself for wanting to do that to her.

Cursing his birth and ever having met the infuriating young woman that he wanted so badly, Gendry spun back to the anvil, taking up the heavy hammer and the shattered sword again, hoping against hope that if he hit it hard enough and switched his mind to ways of mending the blade, he might be able to forget the idea Tom had stuck in his mind the minute he'd sung the last verse of the song.

**But you can be my forest love and me your forest lass.**

Arya was silent as a ghost as she pulled open the door to the forge they'd let Gendry move into. The hinges had creaked earlier, but this time there wasn't a sound. Arya felt the warmth of the building soak into her skin and watched the way his muscles in his bare, broad back rippled and jumped with each upward swing and downward strike of his hammer against the steel and the anvil. He had his feet braced apart for balance and stood straight and tall to all six foot three of himself.

Arya bit her lip on a smile to know he had stripped off his shirt and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks to realise that she preferred the view when he had no shirt to when he was dressed. Trying to pretend to herself that she hadn't come to see him with the words

_**Lay you down**_

Echoing inside her head, Arya unfastened her cloak and hung it next to his on the hook inside the door, her deft fingers sliding the bolts into their locks, sealing the door tightly. Her feet whispered against the floor of the forge as she crossed the room in silence until she reached the small table that stood lonely in the middle of the room. As she shuffled her bum onto the table far enough that her feet dangled, Arya smiled to herself. Gendry was so intent on his work that he hadn't noticed her presence yet and she was tempted to see how long it would take him to realise she'd joined him.

Listening to the clang and chime of the hammer hitting the steel, Arya found herself thinking back to the time when they'd been leaving King's Landing, when Hot Pie and Weasel had been picking a fight with her and calling her lumpyhead. As Arya watched the way Gendry's powerful body worked the forge, she almost laughed to think of the threat he'd delivered to Hot Pie on her behalf.

_When I hit that steel, it sings. Are you going to sing when I hit you?_

Growing impatient with him for not having noticed her, Arya waited until he paused in his hammering to examine the blade.

"Gendry" she murmured, giggling a little when he spun towards her in surprise with the sword raised in front of himself and not at all in the way she'd taught him "I thought I told you that you should stand side-face?"

"Arya?" he growled, clearly not liking having been snuck up on. "How the hell did you get in here?"

"I came down the chimney" Arya said sarcastically "How do you bloody think?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked her gruffly and Arya raised her eyebrows at the way his blue eyes were wild but his face closed off as though he was unhappy to see her.

"Couldn't sleep" Arya shrugged, her feet swinging "Not used to the silence. Guess I got too used to your horrid snoring."

For a moment he looked amused, but before it could reach his eyes, which seemed to be looking everywhere but at her own eyes, he spun away from her and took up his hammer again. Before he could hit the steel again Arya interrupted him.

"Why are you still working? It's the middle of the night."

"Couldn't sleep" he grunted, mimicking her.

"Why? I don't snore" Arya poked fun at him "Or did you try sleeping and wake yourself up snoring since I wasn't around to be woken up by it?"

"You shouldn't be here" Gendry told her and Arya felt like he'd slapped her.

"You want me to leave?" she asked in a small voice, gritting her teeth even as she heard how incredibly vulnerable she sounded.

"Arya" Gendry warned, turning to look at her again. Arya narrowed her eyes at him.

"Harwin told you to stop being my friend, didn't he?" she growled.

**Gendry** felt like falling on the sword he clutched when he heard the small voice she used at the idea of him not wanting her there. He didn't want her to leave. But he needed her to. Because she was dressed in a different dress, this time one a pretty shade of blue and even tighter than the last one. He wondered if the women of Acorn hall who kept dressing her secretly disliked her or believed her a tramp. Why else would they keep dressing her so provocatively?

"He might've asked me a few questions" Gendry replied instead, not wanting to reveal that Harwin had asked him numerous times about whether or not he'd fucked Arya, and several more about whether or not he'd wanted to. And though he'd been able to answer truthfully that he hadn't, he'd lied when he said he didn't want to.

"What did he say?" his favourite she-wolf snarled, looking pissed off now and yet kind of cute because of the way her legs kept swinging back and forth where they dangled off the table she sat on.

"Nothing important" Gendry evaded.

"Gendry" Arya snapped, clearly not believing him.

**Arya's **eyes danced across his bare chest, drinking in the sight of his heavily muscled form when he wore nothing but breeches and feeling something strange going on in her body in response.

"Arya" he mimicked her a little sarcastically and Arya had a feeling she might know what kinds of questions the household guardsman had asked of her companion, especially since they looked they might be making Gendry blush.

"He asked you if you'd fucked me, didn't he?" Arya said boldly, her eyes boring into his and wondering if it was possible to convey with a look alone that that was what she wanted. In Westeros such things were common knowledge and even children knew how fucking worked. Most had seen a man and a woman fucking by the time they were ten years, and Arya was no exception, despite her mother's futile attempts. Sansa and other highborn ladies might be in the dark about such things as what occurred in whorehouses or private chambers, but Arya wasn't.

She knew exactly how it worked and had seen people fucking more than once. Arya watched Gendry's eyes widen and darken at her bold question.

"Might've done" Gendry grunted, and Arya felt her stomach swoop strangely when she caught the way his eyes were dark with lust. Gendry wore the same kind of hungry expression Theon used to wear whenever anything in a skirt walked by and Arya felt her body react to that hunger with a fierce roar deep inside her.

Slowly, Arya slid off the table onto her feet and began to stalk towards him very slowly.

"You need to leave Arya" Gendry told her quietly, his voice low and husky.

"Why?" Arya murmured back, watching him closely.

"Because it's not right for a highborn lady to come calling on a bastard. Especially not in the middle of the night" Gendry told her, voice rough. Arya tensed as she felt the way her body quivered at the sound.

"If you call me a lady one more time" Arya threatened darkly, her gaze narrowed "I'm going to stick you with Needle."

"You need to get out" Gendry argued, his teeth gritted now as Arya stalked slowly closer. She was almost within reach. Arya could see the way his eyes were wild with lust and the way he had a white knuckled grip on the sword he'd been working.

"Are you going to make me?" Arya smirked.

Arya, if you don't go…." Gendry trailed off as his eyes dipped from hers and Arya felt his gaze like a caress. They lingered hungrily on the column of her throat and the exposed skin of her chest and cleavage before dipping lower and drinking in the lush curves of her feminine form.

Instead of responding to his threat, Arya murmured "'You know, I heard some of the ladies suggesting that maybe the best way to get rid of my energy would be to let them train me in the whorehouse."

"But you're a lord's daughter" Gendry growled, looking angry.

"So what?" Arya shrugged "The Brotherhood Without Banners don't give a damn about lords and ladies or whose arse is on the Iron Throne. They don't care if the daughter of a dead lord becomes a whore. To them that's just another tragedy of the wars."

Gendry's fists were clenched so tight that Arya was sure the sword pommel was going to be misshapen from now on.

"Besides" Arya said, stepping closer. Close enough to touch "I've never been a lady and since the Brotherhood are afraid to let a girl fight for them… well I'll need to do something, especially if they keep stuffing me into dresses like this one."

Arya felt a satisfied smile tug at the corners of her mouth when Gendry's eyes dropped to her exposed flesh again. She liked it even more that she could see his breath coming faster and his breeches did little to hide the fact that his cock was hard for her.

"Gendry?" Arya asked, aware of the way her voice had gone husky as she drank in the way his chest and stomach were flat and lean and hard with muscle.

"What did you tell Harwin, when he asked if you'd fucked me?" she looked up into his eyes from less than three feet away.

"The truth" Gendry growled "That you're a highborn lady, and ladies don't fuck lowborn bastards."

Arya narrowed her eyes on him at being called a lady again but before she could hurt him for it, he spoke again.

"But if you don't get out of here _right now_" Gendry, his voice hoarse with restrained need as his fists twitched with the want to touch her "…You're going to make me a liar."

Arya felt a thrill race through her as goose pimples exploded across her skin and sent tingles all the way through her body. Slowly she took another step towards him, lifting her hand and letting it hover in the air a hairsbreadth from his chest. She looked up into his bright blue eyes, which pierced her with heat. His black hair hung everywhere, framing his handsome face and strong jaw. She wondered if the hunger she felt showed on her face the way his did.

"Don't" Gendry murmured, voice tight with the need for her to do it and let him fuck her stupid. "Don't or I'll fuck you until they all know that you're not a lady at all."

Arya pressed her hand against him and beneath it she could feel his heart hammering as hard as hers was. The sword he held fell to the floor with a clatter and shattered against the stone as his hands shot up to grab her. One dug into her short hair at the nape of her neck and the other found the small of her back, tugging her body against his even as his lips crashed down on hers. She whimpered when he nipped at her lips and felt like her whole body was on fire as his tongue delved into her mouth, stroking against hers with furious, unbridled passion.

Arya hissed and buried her hands in his hair when he lips burned a fiery trail down the side of her neck. Her heart was racing in her chest and her whole body seemed to pulse with need. His hands on her were rough and held her hard against him. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her stomach, warm even through the layers of cloth they both still wore. The stubble on his face scratched at her skin in a way that simultaneously stung and tingled pleasurably and Arya heard the low moan that came from her throat as he lifted her off her feet as he propelled them backwards even while he captured her lips with his again.

**Gendry** felt like he had no control over himself as he had his first taste of Arya Stark. All he knew was that he'd warned her and like he'd known she would, she put his threat to the test and he sure as hells was going to deliver on it. Vaguely he was aware of the fact that he'd walked her backwards until she collided with the table and she nipped his lips in punishment for the hurt even as he lifted her off her feet and laid her out on the table.

**Arya** felt her heart skip a beat as Gendry lifted the skirts of her awful dress, his rough and calloused hands tormenting her flesh as he ran them up her calves and beneath her knees, all the way up her thighs until he discovered that she wore no small clothes beneath her skirts and as she felt him grip her arse Arya suddenly found herself hating dresses a little less and understanding why whores wore them. They were wonderful for easy access to fucking.

She didn't even have to think about it as her hands found the tie that held his breeches on and deftly loosened them, though he made it significantly harder to concentrate on her task as he insisted on kissing her furiously, marauding her mouth like a pirate with a treasure chest. It especially didn't help her focus when she felt his fingers playing at her slit and Arya was very aware of the moan he swallowed from her as one of his long fingers dipped inside. Working faster so she'd could give him a taste of his own medicine, Arya freed him of his breeches and she heard the way he cursed against the side of her neck to feel her strong small hand wrap around his hard cock.

Arya might not have ever fucked anyone or even kissed a man before Gendry, but she was no stranger to the workings of fucking and as she began to work her hand up and down his cock Arya enjoyed the control she had over him with just a touch. She felt herself giving in to the sensations as his clever fingers worked inside her, readying her body for the sound fucking she knew was coming. He tasted of salt and soot and sweat when Arya nipped and kissed her way down his neck, her free hand gripping his massive shoulder and tugging until he was bent over her as she stretched out on the table.

She felt herself smirk at the way his movements became a little frenzied as she increased the speed of her hand pumping up and down his cock and she giggled a little when she heard the loud ripping sound as the lacings at the front of her dress over her breasts tore free of the holes, successfully destroying another gown. Arya didn't care about that, not when she felt herself losing her mind to the sensation of his strong fingers caressing the walls of her cunt. Wriggling a little, Arya slid herself to the edge of the table, hooking one leg up over Gendry's hip and using her grip on his cock to pull him closer until the weeping tip was aligned with the junction between her thighs.

As he realised what she wanted he drew his finger out of her very slowly.

"Are you sure about this?" Arya heard him whisper and she opened her eyes to stare into his ice blue ones where they hovered inches above her own. They were dark with lust and glowing with pleasure, but Arya could see the flicker of worry in them as he tried to think about the two of them as per the rules of society that dictated it was wrong for a highborn girl to fuck a bastard.

"If you stop now I'm going to cut this off" Arya squeezed his cock indicatively "And choke you to death with it."

She felt something inside her flutter happily as he chuckled, shaking his head at her even as he kissed her lips again. Arya sighed against him involuntarily at the way he kissed her softly, his lips and tongue brushing against her gently and deliberately even as his hand slid all the way up the thigh she had hooked around him, gripping her hips and pulling her down further even as he pressed forwards. Arya's eyes flew open as she felt his cock gliding inside her wet cunt and felt the way her body had to stretch to accommodate his size. She felt it too when he encountered her maidenhead.

He pulled back to look at her for a moment when he felt it too and Arya growled, her nails digging into his biceps where she gripped him as he began to slowly withdraw. Amusement and lust warred in his eyes and Arya felt the nasty barb on the tip of her tongue to scold him if he thought her was going to stop now.

"You shouldn't've let me do this, you know?" Gendry said, his voice low and rough, caressing her ears even though it wasn't what she wanted to be hearing. Just as she opened her mouth to ask him why in the hells not, it came out as a whimper of pain instead as he drove his cock back into her hard, piercing her maidenhead and tunnelling deep inside her until his sword was snug inside her sheath.

"Because, I don't think I'm ever going to be able to stop" he continued, grinning at her as he waited for her to grow accustomed to the feel of him inside her. Arya felt like she couldn't breathe at the sting inside her and the uncomfortable feel of having him seated snugly inside her. She didn't even realise she'd dug her nails into his skin or that she'd clenched her eyes closed against the pain.

After what felt like forever, Arya slowly opened her eyes and peered into his blue ones, confused about why he was staying still. She'd seen other people fuck and they didn't just lay there together, they moved and thrust against each other.

"Are you ok?" he murmured softly, almost lovingly and Arya realised he'd been waiting for it to stop hurting her. A smile curled across her face.

"Yes. Didn't you say something about fucking me until everyone knows I'm no lady after all?"

It was all the encouragement he needed and Arya felt her eyes drift closed and roll back in her head as he began to pump into her as though holding still and waiting for her to stop hurting had wound him up and now he needed to let loose. The rickety table bucked and wobbled beneath them and Gendry pounded into Arya again and again, his face buried against her neck, licking, nipping and suckling against her flesh. His hands pinned hers above her head and Arya growled in protest when her body began to coil with anticipation of something and she couldn't do anything to react to it.

Each hard stroke of his cock inside her drove Arya crazy and she felt like she had no control of her body at all as he just kept going. Just when she felt like she couldn't take it anymore because it felt so good, Arya heard the strangled moan that she gave even as her nails dug into his hands and she bit down on his shoulder, feeling like her body was shattering into a million tiny pleasurable pieces. Arya heard the way his breath caught as her body gripped him impossibly tighter, milking his and dragging him over the edge with her.

"Hells Arya" he groaned, thrusting into her faster and harder, driving himself so deep that Arya whimpered with each stroke as he spilt his seed inside of her and collapsed on top of her, breathing hard.

Arya felt a slow, satisfied smiled spread across her face as the grip he had on her wrists loosened and his hands slid across hers, fingers interlacing even as he lifted up slightly so that he could press a soft kiss to her swollen lips.

A little while later Gendry slowly pulled away from her, straightening to his full height and staring down at her with a strange expression. Arya sat up slowly, enjoying the view immensely when she noticed that Gendry was completely naked but for the breeches around his ankles and his boots.

"What were you doing coming here in the middle of the night?" he asked her after he re-tied his breeches. Arya smirked at him lazily.

"Looking for you" she told him.

"Why?" Gendry asked, his eyes curious now and making Arya realise that he probably already knew the answer. She wondered if the answer was shining in her eyes when he frowned at her slightly.

"You shouldn't have come here Arya" he told her, turning away from her with regret flashing in his eyes.

"Why the hell not?" Arya demanded, jumping to her feet and wincing only a little at the way her body protested after the new experiences she'd put it through today.

"You shouldn't have let me fuck you… I shouldn't have fucked you" he told her, still not looking at her and instead staring into the flames of the forge fire.

"If you tell me one more time about the fact that I'm a fucking highborn I'm never going to talk to you again" Arya snapped at him "So if your reasoning is that you think bastards and highborns shouldn't fuck, I'd suggest keeping it to yourself Gendry."

"But it's true" he snapped spinning back, blue eyes flashing angrily "I'm a bastard. You're a lady and if you get pregnant because I just fucked you, then we'll have a bastard child."

"I'm not a fucking lady!" Arya screeched at him, moving closer until she could beat her fists against his bare chest in frustration.

"You are a lady" Gendry snapped right back at her, catching her wrists and jerking them up into the air until she dangled by them, ignoring the way her feet kicked against his legs nastily. "And when you have bastard sons or daughters, you'll be a disgraced lady."

"Gendry" Arya said testily, still trying to get loose of his grip and failing miserably "In the time you've known me have I ever acted like a lady? Have I ever treated you differently for being bastard-born? Has it ever seemed to you as though I give a damn about who's got what kind of blood running through their veins?"

Gendry scowled at her, looking irritable.

"Before my father died he visited the forge where you worked, didn't he?" Arya asked him.

"Yeah, so?"

"At the time when he was looking into the bastards of King Robert Baratheon" Arya said, eyes daring him to believe his heritage. "If you want to argue bloodlines with me Gendry, then don't stand there as though the blood in you is of any less worth than mine just because the King didn't marry your mother…. I have a bastard brother you know. Father raised him, but he wasn't born to my mother. I never cared about that. I don't give two shits about the supposed dishonour on bastards for being bastards. That's entirely on the two people who fucked and didn't marry."

"Oh so you're going to marry me then?" Gendry challenged her.

"Maybe I damned well am!" Arya snarled at him "If it will keep you from going on about this bastard born shit any longer!"

The surprise on his face was what made Arya realise what it was that she'd just said, but even as she thought about the outburst she realised that the idea of marrying Gendry was something she actually wouldn't mind and given the fact that she had been fighting tooth and nail all her life against the idea of ever being married off to anyone, Arya realised that she was in a whole lot deeper than she'd realised.

Before he could open his mouth again and spout anything out about needing the permission of a king for a highborn to marry a lowborn, Arya swung the legs she'd been kicking him with up around his waist, hooking her ankles against him and used the grip to drag herself towards him until she could kiss his surprised lips again. After a few moments she felt him respond to her kiss, leaning into it even as he dropped his grip on her wrists in favour of pulling her harder against him and Arya nipped his lips as her back collided with the wall of the forge while Gendry ground his body against hers lustfully again.

Trusting him to be able to hold her up, Arya began tugging her skirts out of the way and unlacing his breeches again. Gendry pulled back from kissing her when Arya wrapped her hand around his cock again.

"We need the permission of a king to marry" he told her bluntly. Arya scowled, thinking quickly.

"My brother Robb is King in the North" she told him, a smirk growing on her face "And he'll do what I tell him will make me happy."

"I'm still a bastard. If you marry me you won't be a Stark anymore. Any children we have would bare the bastard-born name that I bear." Gendry warned her.

Arya scoffed "I'll always be a Stark. Any children I bear will be Starks. No useless twat on the Iron Throne or any other throne is going to be telling me what I can and can't name my children and who I can and can't marry."

"I don't make much. I won't be able to give you a big fancy castle to live in or spare coin for silks and finery." He warned her again, trying to make her understand what she'd be getting into with him if he fucked her again; if he hadn't filled her belly with his bastard already.

"_I'll wear a gown of golden leaves and bind my hair with grass"_ Arya hummed to him softly "I've no use for fancy silk and finery. I've no need for a crown or for you to be my lord. And if you even think I need protecting when I've a sword of my own, I'll stick you with the pointy end."

Gendry stared at the fierce woman in his arms, even as he felt the way her hand guided his cock back to her slit and she began to grind down onto him. In his mind he could hear the words of Tom's song about his ideas of protecting her and hers of rejecting any and all restraints that society might try to place on them. He hissed through his teeth as her warm wet passaged sheathed him entirely, branding his cock as hers for as long as she'd have him.

"The bed" he ground out as she used the strength in her legs and their grip on him to drag herself up and down on his cock when he didn't thrust into her right away "I should fuck you on the bed, like proper."

Gendry felt his cock twitch and all remnants of control he had desert him in favour of lust and love for Arya Stark as her passage tightened while she laughed at him and leaned in to nibble his earlobe as she whispered,

"_**No feather bed for me**_."


End file.
